


Drunken Lament

by SenkoWakimarin



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alcohol, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-10 23:06:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13511637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenkoWakimarin/pseuds/SenkoWakimarin
Summary: Hidan is a mopey drunk. With Kakuzu gone collecting a bounty, he has plenty of time to explore just how mopey he can be.





	Drunken Lament

**Author's Note:**

> HEY Y'ALL, I'M BACK ON MY BULLSHIT!

Hidan was drunk.

This was not a normal state of affairs for him, but he figured after everything he’d been through, he deserved a _treat_ , and somewhere along the line he’d decided that his treat was going to be spending as much money as he could possibly manage – and there was a fair bit here – drinking as much as he could handle – there was a fair bit there, too – before crawling back to his room and passing out.

The drinking had started on Saturday, but it was either late Monday evening or early Tuesday morning. Hidan couldn’t say for a certainty, because he couldn’t quite focus on the clock well enough to tell what it said. He only knew it was dark outside and that his stomach hurt in that puke-y way it might hurt if you drank an inordinate amount of sake without eating anything. He could make it to the toilets if he needed to, but he didn’t think it would come to that.

Left to his own devices, Hidan was quiet enough. He prayed, he brooded. He wasn’t the shallow thing Kakuzu thought he was. It wasn’t self-loathing that made him sacrifice so much, made him quiet in the face of praise – it wasn’t self-loathing, it was _humility_.

“You talkin’ to yourself?” the bartender asked, bored and smug in the same measure. Hidan wanted to kill him. He’d left all his weapons in the crappy hotel room, and even drunk he knew better. Curling over the bar, he hunched over his sake and glared at the man until he looked away, flustered.

If the bastard hadn’t left him in this shit hole village with these shit hole people and their shit hole bar…

For a _bounty_ he’d left him here. A bounty, like Hidan was nothing.

Maybe, to Kakuzu, he was.

After all, he’d only left a note. They’d argued the night before, not seriously enough to have gotten blood on anything – Kakuzu was never any fun in rented rooms, too worried about leaving a mess to follow them by, or worse, being charged extra for their room. They hadn’t fucked though. They hadn’t fucked in _weeks_ , and Hidan was starting to think it was something he’d done.

Maybe with Kakuzu he couldn’t skirt through a relationship on good looks and a few shared interests. Maybe he wasn’t smart enough for the old man, or experienced enough, or a good enough lay in bed. Maybe delicate good looks weren’t Kakuzu’s thing.

In the beginning he’d had Kakuzu wrapped around his finger, could coerce or trick or lead him by the nose into whatever he wanted. When they’d started fucking it had been even better – the old man had old hang-ups, wanted to treat Hidan as more than just something to throw into bed, so Hidan could whine a little and get whatever his heart desired.

Then Kakuzu had caught on. He’d been so furious that his ‘generosity’ had been being taken advantage of – like providing a few basic niceties was _so_ generous – he’d just about gutted Hidan. It had gone from exciting, pulse pounding euphoria to terrifying in a fraction of a second, Kakuzu not taking his usual time but instead tearing into him, shredding several vulnerable organs, only stopping when tears had built in Hidan’s eyes.

There’d been a moment then, when at the sound of a hiccupping sniffle from Hidan, that Kakuzu had looked a little mortified with himself. He’d tossed a cloak over his partner and left him to heal, saying nothing more that night. And the next day, it was as if no fight had been had, except there was now a frosty distance between the two of them. And though the frost had thawed and they’d gone back to their usual dynamic of bickering and occasional fucking, the distance had remained.

Proven well enough by Kakuzu slipping out last night, leaving nothing but a damn note asking Hidan to remain here until he returned. After a bounty, be back soon.

Maybe he’d been forgotten, he thought morosely, hunching tighter over his drink.

“We’re closin’ up soon, shinobi.”

The man’s voice was gentle this time, no snicker, no droning boredom. Hidan looked up, forcing himself to focus. The bartender was smiling gently, looked concerned – he was a civilian, Hidan had to remind himself, civilians were suckers. That made them kind indiscriminately.

“How much?”

The man thought for a moment. “Two bottles comes to ten thousand. I’ll let you take the rest of the third with you for another two.”

A sucker indeed. Hidan blearily counted out the bills, pushed them across the bar, and slid from his seat, stumbling just once before making a more graceful exit out into the fog. It was always foggy here, though in the middle of the day it burned off low; by nighttime though it was back in full bloom, thick enough to make travel dangerous for the average civilian.

Even a drunk shinobi was safe enough though. Fog they trained for, fog was like smoke, like mist, something to conceal one’s self in. Travelling in conditions like these were second nature for any shinobi worth his salt.

If the bar is closed that means it’s early indeed. Another day successfully wasted – he’s briefly glad that he’ll heal overnight, won’t have to worry about a hangover. Can start the next day off fresh, unspoiled by nausea or migraine.

He wished Kakuzu were there. Maybe waiting for him at the inn, maybe he’d have been drinking beside him. No, they would have drank in private, Kakuzu didn’t like eating or drinking in public. Hidan didn’t understand _why_ – the stitches were weird, sure, and yet they suited him. Kakuzu was _gorgeous_ , not in the easy, classical way Hidan himself was – he knew this about himself, there was no point in being stupidly modest – but in a rougher, harsher way that made Hidan’s heart stutter and seize in his chest when he thought about it too hard.

There was, he decided, nothing short of blasphemy he wouldn’t do if the bastard would just come back. Watch his language, help bring in bounties, start contributing to saving their money instead of spending it straight off. Whatever Kakuzu wanted, all he had to do was say the fucking word and Hidan would change for him.

After all, that was what lovers wanted from each other, wasn’t it? For the other to cave and change? Certainly it had always been his aim, to get Kakuzu to stop being such a fucking avarice-driven penny-pincher. Which was, probably, a fundamental part of the old prick.

Maybe that had been the real fuckup here; not just tricking Kakuzu to get what he wanted, but tricking him to change what made him… him.

Huffing a sigh, Hidan found himself clinging to the railway of the staircase leading to the inn’s porch, and he suddenly, halfway up, felt like bawling his stupid immortal heart out. These crying jags were rare, but they boiled down to a basic simplicity; Hidan wanted to die, and Jashin wouldn’t allow it. He rarely actually shed any tears, and sure as shit wasn’t going to do it drunk out in the open.

Sniffing back, he trudged up the last few stairs, took a swig from the bottle he’d almost forgotten he was carrying, and shouldered his way through the door. Took another swig of sake, and made his way toward the room Kakuzu had left him in. For some reason, it felt nice to trail his hand along the wall, so he did, clutching the bottle in one hand and laying the other against the smooth wooden panels, dragging his fingers behind him.

He was clumsy, slow, unlocking the door, but only because he knew no one dangerous was around. And what would he find on the other side, anyway? Kakuzu wasn’t here.

Locking the door to his empty room behind him, he fought the urge to cry again, alone and bitter about it. He swallowed the hurt, but for some reason, be it spilled sake or tears, his face was wet when he laid it on the pillow, and he was unconscious before he could muddle any further emotion out of himself.

It’s a dark and dreamless sleep, but deep, his abused body wanting to rejuvenate and heal from the little bender he’d been on. He wakes up once to roll over, thinking a light was shining under the door, and falls dead away back to sleep, facing in toward the room now.

Only later does he feel something slip into his bed, the weight smooth and even, warm, scent familiar in faint copper and old paper. His eyes drift open, still half drunk and half asleep, and meet the eyes of his companion, his partner, his dear one.

God, he was a fucking sap.

“You smell,” Kakuzu says by way of greeting, “like expensive sake. And self-pity.”

He groans, trying to roll over, only to be caught in arms too strong and warm to fight. “You were gone so fuckin’ _long_ , okay?”

 “Shut up,” Kakuzu laughs, and then, not hesitant in the slightest, brings their mouths gently, tenderly, together. For the first time since they’ve started doing things like this, the kiss is sweet, free of teeth or blood or pain.

Kakuzu, who doesn’t usually go for slow and easy, takes his time kissing Hidan’s lips, his jawline, his neck. “So, you missed me,” he states, muttering against the skin of Hidan’s shoulder, laughing when Hidan cusses at him and tries to shove him away, catching both his hands in one of his own and kissing lower. His tongue swirls over a pale nipple before he says, “That’s okay. I missed you too, idiot.”

Somehow that reassurance means more to Hidan than anything, and he bites his lip for a second before sinking his fingers into Kakuzu’s hair, tugging him gently back up to kiss him proper.

A hand creeps down his abdomen, over the flat plane of his stomach and then under the waistband of his trousers. Usually Kakuzu would be tearing his clothes off, but there’s something about this… gentleness, this kindness, that Hidan likes, how every move of those calloused fingers make him shiver in anticipation. It’s such a stunning difference from what he’s used to, such a lack of their usual blood and fury; it’s soft and sweet not hard and fast at all – and while part of him misses that hard and fast, he can’t deny in his sleepy drunkenness that he’s happier like this.

Kakuzu strokes him, all loose and easy motions, until he’s writhing beneath that larger body, desperate. “You gotta stop, I’m gonna, gonna cream my fuckin’ pants.”

Laughing, Kakuzu kisses him once more, and then disappears under the sheets, pushing his knees apart and settling between them. He has the buttons to Hidan’s trousers undone in seconds and hunches there, curling over him. Hidan’s eyes roll back in anticipatory pleasure before Kakuzu ever touches him, and he bites down on his wrist when those lips close on his cock, eager and focused on getting Hidan off. Sometimes Kakuzu’s mouth feels like fucking a bristle brush, the threads inside him ready to burst free in his worked-up agitation. This time, it feels like any other mouth, warm and wet and sweet.

It doesn’t take long, between that wonderful suction and Hidan’s lingering inebriation, before Hidan is bucking up into that welcoming mouth, shivering as the feel of Kakuzu swallowing around him, taking him in deep and swallowing his cum.

All a sudden, it all seems too perfect, too nice, and he questions, even as he’s watching Kakuzu sit up and arrange the sheets back over them, whether the other man can be here at all.

“Is this real?” He murmurs, letting himself be dragged in so he can lean in and rest his head on Kakuzu’s shoulder. “If I fuckin’ dreamed this I’m gonna…”

“Shut up, Hidan,” Kakuzu replies, voice laced with surprising good humor. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”


End file.
